


Agony (far more painful than yours)

by tresshots



Series: Assemble [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers!AU, Bisexual Derek Hale, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Paige/Derek Hale, Minor Braeden/Derek Hale, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s), Minor Tony Stark/Derek Hale, Miscommunication, Pining, With a Happy Ending Though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresshots/pseuds/tresshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you just wanna see my bed, you should say so.”</p>
<p>“Stop this.” Derek is not about to take advantage of Stiles. He wants him sober and consenting, or at least not when he’s so drunk he can barely walk two steps without tripping.</p>
<p>“Stop what?”</p>
<p>Derek secures Stiles’ wandering hand between his own, brings it to his lips. He wants these fingers inside him so, so badly. “I‘m not going to be like all of your girls, Stiles.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agony (far more painful than yours)

**Author's Note:**

> Derek's POV of Ready, aim, fire. Can totally be read as standalone, but you might want to read the first part too, if you haven't already. Title's from Into the Wood's Agony number which is the greatest thing in a while.
> 
> I'm completely shameless with mixing up the TW and Avengers characters. I regret nothing. A quick reminder of who's who: Derek is Captain America, Stiles is Iron Man, Scott’s Hulk, Lydia is Natasha, Allison is Hawkeye, Boyd’s Black Panther, Erica’s Thor, and Isaac is Spider-Man.
> 
> As always, feetback would be lovely. Enjoy!

From the very beginning it’s clear that Stiles Stilinski is the type of a guy your parents warn you about. When Derek meets him for the first time, he’s wearing an atrocious bright blue suit and sunglasses, even though they’re supposed to stay in SHIELD’s headquarters for hours. Let it be noted that sunlight hasn’t been able to reach the negotiation rooms for 50 years, so that adds up to the character of the man behind Iron Man.

Derek tries to shake Stiles’ hand, but he declines. Apparently, he doesn’t like ‘touching weird things.’ He says that with a sneer, as if Derek is something subhuman. Deaton starts talking about kicking the Avengers off as a team, while Stiles keeps shooting heated looks in Derek’s direction.

Derek nods at the appropriate parts and makes his own suggestions when it comes to battle strategies. Stiles is unbelievably loud and vibrant and apparently very smart, judging by how everyone pays immediate attention whenever he talks.

After Stiles leaves, Deaton shakes his head and makes apologies to Derek. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet him this early, but we’re on a tight schedule, so,” Deaton sighs.

“I don’t mind,” Derek says and means it too, “I thought him interesting.”

“Interesting. Right.” Deaton doesn’t blink an eye. “Well, that’s good news. I wouldn’t want the two of my best and brightest to have any friction between them.”

Derek smiles. He can’t imagine anyone having problems with Stiles Stilinski.

 

Derek won’t admit it but he’s struggling with this new strange world. Everything is so much faster, but somehow less genuine. It’s only when the Avengers start making appearances as a team that he feels at home again. Derek loved the Howling Commandos, but Avengers – they’re something else. First of all there’s Erica, who is an actual goddess, and Derek’s still having a hard time trying to wrap his mind around that. She wields her hammer with a fierce grace and treats the world like it is her birthright, which Derek supposes to be true. Erica’s the one he usually spars with; she holds nothing back and offers good bickering, so they develop a hearty relationship, even though Erica is a bit too wild and blunt for Derek, at times.

Isaac’s the youngest of them, and he practically worships the ground beneath Derek’s feet. At first Derek’s embarrassed, but once he makes his first public appearance he learns there’s a lot of guys like him, minus the Spider-ised part. Derek is somewhat of a ‘national treasure’, like Stiles puts it. Isaac is shy in Derek’s company, but Derek figures he’ll just have to give him some time. Surely he can’t be intimidated forever.

Scott’s another shy one. Derek understands why he doesn’t talk much – they’re all so very careful about not pissing him off by any chance – but when he does, he’s so good-natured Derek doesn’t think anybody who’s ever met the guy could dislike him for any reason. He’s just genuinely a good guy, and not in a creepy way. He’s also unbelievably intelligent, but mostly only when Stiles is around. Stiles is actually doing research on their bloodlines, completely sure they share some ancestors.

Talking about ancestors, Derek is slightly shocked when he meets Allison. She resembles Kate in her looks, and Kate is something Derek doesn’t really like thinking about. He tries to steer clear of Allison for a while, but once they get stuck in an elevator together – Derek is willing to bet money Deaton’s got his fingers on it – Allison comes forward saying she’s never had any relations with Red Kate besides her blood, “and if you’re gonna judge me for that, well, that’s your bad.” Derek stammers a bit but they talk it through. They smile at each other and Allison promises to teach him how to work a bow, so that’s that.

Lydia reminds him of Paige. She’s absolutely brilliant and probably eats grown men for breakfast. She refuses to take anyone’s shit and is strictly professional on field, but on personal matters she’s compassionate and loyal. Derek absolutely loves sparring against her, but even more so he loves what comes after; the junk food and trashy TV and the feeling of closeness.

Whenever the world gets too loud, Derek goes to Boyd and draws in his presence. Boyd doesn’t ask too many questions, and never ever presses for anything, and he gets that sometimes Derek wants to be in human company without having to talk about his feelings. He and Boyd practically read each others minds in battle, they’re efficient and both equipped with killer instincts. If Derek had to choose one person he’d take with him to a deserted island, he’d choose Boyd.

And then there’s Stiles. Stiles, who seems to love himself more than anything else in the world. Stiles, who takes everything for granted and wears cufflinks which he informs everyone, ‘are more expensive than all you and your mother own, combined.’ Stiles, who calls him names, Captain Jawline being his favorite. Stiles, who is single-handedly the most fascinating person Derek's ever met.

So all in all, they fight and bicker, and then Derek goes back to the apartment SHIELD’s bought for him. He spends his days catching up with the changed world and watching Animal Planet. He’s not happy, but he’s not depressed either, so it works out somewhat.

 

Quickly enough Deaton calls them all in for an urgent matter. Derek hurries to the headquarters and is concerned until Deaton opens his mouth, smiling. (It looks like a threat, somehow.) “Stilinski here has something to say to you all.”

“Me? This was your idea,” Stiles rolls his eyes at Deaton. Derek doesn’t know how he hasn’t gotten assassinated yet. “But alright, alright. So, as you may have been informed, I happen to be filthy rich. So rich that SHIELD wants to take full advantage of it and make me start collect lonely superheroes under my roof.”

Everybody keeps blinking. Deaton sighs. “What Stilinski here means is that we’ve thought this over, and it would be good for you all to move into his mansion. He’s got space and multiple resources, and it’s great team bonding. Or so I’ve heard.”

“That’s what I said,” Stiles puts in.

“That’s not even remotely what you said,” Lydia says. “But if that’s what SHIELD wants, I’m in.”

“You could at least pretend to be a bit more excited, alright, you’re gonna have fully free access to a building every single soul in Manhattan would sell their grandma to live a day in for,” Stiles says.

Lydia smiles at him and pulls a nail file out of somewhere. Stiles slinks back in his chair and doesn’t utter a word for the rest of the meeting.

 

Their first big battle after the move-in is against Deucalion, and Stiles is flirting shamelessly at Derek. At, not with. Derek doesn’t want any part in this.

“Yeah, baby, squirm,” he snickers when Derek puts out the fire his boots have catched. “You’re so bendy, I heard Cirque du Soleil is currently hiring,” he chuckles as Derek does some acrobatic moves in order to duck Deucalion’s wrath.

They defeat Deucalion, of course they do, but the remarks stay. And what’s even worse is that Erica and Isaac pile on him, too. Other than that, Derek loves living with the team. It’s not always perfect, but they understand each others recluseness and give each other space and peace.

Mostly. Stiles is still a pain in Derek’s ass – although not literally (fortunately or unfortunately, Derek doesn’t even dare to think about). He’s always going off about Derek’s body, about how he should start selling tickets to the gym whenever Derek’s working out there, about how they should order strippers to the mansion just for Derek’s sake.

And then one day Stiles does exactly that. Derek turns beet red when he’s got a very striking dame writhing on his lap, wearing nothing but undergarments. Lydia saves him and the stripper moves on to Erica, instead. Everybody goes quiet. Stiles leaves after a while, holding a pillow to his crotch. That night Derek finds the wonderful world of what Lydia tells him is called Internet porn.

It’s not weird, he tells himself, when he mostly ends up watching men with men. He’s just curious. Back in the 40’s there were some homosexuals living in his street, but nobody really spoke about it out loud. Now, he asks Lydia about it and she explains him all about the LGBT movement. Derek is amazed and proud; oddly relieved.

 

Derek’s taking a shower when the Assemble Alarm goes off. He hops out cursing and pulls on the suit, then runs outside where the SSJet is waiting. The whole team is screaming, jogging and dressing at the same time. It’s a beautiful chaos. They get in the jet, and that’s when Derek notices someone’s missing. “Did Stiles fly there already?”

“He’s in the lab,” Scott mutters.

“What the hell is he doing there? No, we’ll wait for him,” Derek yells at the pilot. He can already see the destruction Kali is causing to New York.

“We need to go now,” Lydia says.

“Are you kidding me? We have to wait for him,” Derek is astonished.

“He won’t come, Derek, trust me. We need to go, I’ll tell you later about Stilinski,” Lydia snaps.

Derek turns to look at Scott, who nods grimly. Derek is surprised, but he gives the pilot permission to take flight.

After they’ve destroyed Kali, Derek pulls Lydia aside. “I want to know what’s going on with Stiles. Leave nothing out.”

“Mr. Stilinski is in the habit of drinking heavily,” Lydia says bluntly. “He’s probably passed downstairs as we speak.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“What isn’t wrong with him,” Lydia says, then sighs. “It’s Heather, I think.”

“What about her?” Derek is alarmed. He likes Heather. He doesn’t know her well, but she cooks breakfast for them all, sometimes, and Stiles seems somewhat calm when she’s around.

“If you didn’t notice, she left. He’s not taking it well.”

“What do we do?”

“We? We do nothing. We wait.”

“He’s downstairs?”

“In his workshop.”

Derek nods. He walks straight to Stiles’ lab, which he has visited only a few times, under Stiles’ strict supervision. He is denied entrance by Jarvis and is pacing back and forth in front of the doors, when he's surprised by metallic screeching.

A tiny robot rolls forward, its antler – is it an antler? Derek thinks so – reaching for him. “Uh – hello?” Derek says, feeling dumb as always when it comes to robots in this house. That could be a highly intelligent, multimillion-consuming project or then a fancy vacuum cleaner for all he knows. “Can you – do you speak? Like Jarvis?”

“Captain Hale,” Jarvis speaks, and he sounds slightly offended, “Dummy is not like me. But he does understand what you’re saying… mostly.”

“Alright. Hey, buddy.” Derek reaches to pet at Dummy’s head and the robot chirps, overzealous of the attention he’s getting. “Jarvis? Have you seen Stiles?”

“Mr. Stilinski is in his workshop.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Define alright.”

“Is he… alive?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Okay. Can you let me in?”

“No.”

“Please, Jarvis. I just want to make sure.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

“Okay.” Derek deflates. Dummy chirps again and pokes at him with his antler.

Jarvis' next words come a bit whispered, like they’re allies now. “However, Dummy can.”

Derek smiles. “Would you, buddy?”

Dummy makes a frantic noise and pushes at some of the buttons on the door. A faint bleep, and they’re in. “Thanks, Dummy,” Derek says and steps inside.

The workshop is just like he remembered, except there’s various glass bottles lying around. The smell is quite awful, too. “Stiles?” Derek’s turning his head, trying to locate anything that could be alive.

Then he sees it. There’s a formless lump lying in the middle of red and golden squares cut out of a material Derek doesn't recognize.

“Stiles, what the hell,” he walks to the lump.

“Go ‘way,” it makes a sound.

“Stiles,” Derek swallows. He gets a sudden flashback of his big brother, back when he was alive. He was exactly the same, didn’t know how to hold his liquor. Derek feels as sad as he did then.

He picks Stiles up. ”C’mon, I’m taking you to bed. It’s going to be all right.” He does as he says and vows Jarvis to keep him updated. The next morning Stiles acts like nothing’s happened, so Derek does the honorable thing and doesn’t mention it, either. This was most likely just a slip-up. Who wouldn’t turn to drink to cure a heartbreak?

 

Doctor Doom in on the loose with his bewitched stuffed animals. “We need Jackson’s help with uncasting the spell,” Deaton says.

“No.”

“Miss Martin.”

“I said no.”

“We don’t really have a choice.”

Lydia looks livid, but she makes a phone call, whispering in vicious Russian. Derek gets out of there, commanding the rest of the team to follow him. He’s heard enough about Jackson to know Lydia’s gonna want some privacy for their reunion.

The fight is a draining one, but Derek’s happy when it’s over. They’re starting to really work together as a team. Afterwards he feels restless, so he goes to the kitchen to draw. All his pen wants to produce are scribbles of Paige. He feels a bit like suffocating, and as if right on cue Stiles stumbles to the kitchen, wandering right over to the coffee machine.

Derek waits just until Stiles brings the mug to his lips. “Are you sure you should be drinking that, at this time?”

Stiles spills some of his coffee. Derek figures he should feel bad, but honestly he’s just taking his small revenge for all the inappropriate pick-up lines Stiles has ever thrown at him. 

Stiles turns to Derek and seems very angry with the sight of him, for some reason. ”What the fuck are you creeping about,  _at this time_?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Derek says. He’s a filthy, filthy liar.

“I’m not mad,” Stiles looks like he doesn’t mean it, not entirely.

Derek smiles. “I thought everybody else was asleep,” he says.

“Yeah, I just couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna go design something real quick. Feeling quite innovative, you know.”

Derek bites at his lip. “I draw,” he ends up blurting.

“You draw.”

“Not professionally. Just, sometimes.” He knows it’s nothing compared to Stiles’ genius, but for some reason he wants Stiles to know they’ve got something in common. They’re both artists in their own ways.

“Jesus fuck, is there  _anything_ you can’t do?”

Derek raises a brow. “Language.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, it’s, what, 5AM, my brain-to-mouth filter is somewhat lacking.”

“I grew up with military.”

“Then why’d you pretend to be bothered?”

“Because sometimes I feel like I have this role everybody’s expecting me to fill, and I’d hate to disappoint,” Derek refuses to look at Stiles. He’s not used to being this ruthlessly honest, but in this moment it feels right. Like maybe if he offers some honesty to Stiles, he could start opening up in return.

“That sucks,” Stiles nods.

“Yeah.”

Derek looks at Stiles, Stiles looks at the ground. “Anyway,” Stiles fidgets. “I’m just gonna. Go.”

“Yeah, right,” Derek nods. “I wanted to say goodnight. That’s all.”

“Night, Cap.” 

Stiles leaves. Derek most definitely does not feel like a failure.

 

There is something very embarrassing about how whenever he’s around Stiles, he just needs to have something in his mouth. So he develops something he believes is called an oral obsession.  

It sounds vulgar, and that’s only quite fitting, he figures. Derek is not a stranger to sex, he’s lived in wartime and sometimes there were men who were willing to lend Captain America a helping hand, so why shouldn’t he have accepted?

But now he’s gone for five months without another person’s touch. It does take its toll on him. Sure he touches himself when he’s in bed, but it’s not the same.

Derek is not a cocktease, he swears he’s not. But he can admit he has never before wanted to suck someone’s dick this badly. He wants to know what makes Stiles moan and arch his back, he wants to know exactly how big he is under his clothes. Derek wants many things and dares to ask for none of them.

 

They’re sitting on the rooftop terrace, enjoying their magnificent win against Venom, who’s apparently an acquaintance of Isaac’s. Isaac is stealing sips of Stiles’ tequila whenever he’s not looking, which makes Derek think there might be some history there. He won’t intrude for as long as Isaac won’t throw up, though.

Isaac gets restless and also excited, and suggests they could play something called Truth or Dare.

“What are we, five?” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I second that notion,” Lydia says.

“What is Truth or Dare?” Erica asks.

Isaac explains it, but they settle on a game called Never have I ever, instead.

It’s fun, at first, and then a little bit thrilling, too, and then Isaac drops the mic. “Never have I ever kissed a guy,” he hiccups.

Derek can’t help it; his eyes roam instantly to Stiles. The others are bickering about Boyd, but Derek is looking at Stiles, and there’s a wild, living thing called hope flaming up his chest.

Stiles picks up the glass and drinks. Derek is vibrating out of his skin, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He feels so very, incredibly daring as he keeps staring at Stiles, picks up his own glass and drinks.

Stiles looks at him, mouth open. Derek just hopes his hardness isn’t showing.

“Who?” Lydia asks.

“What does it matter,” Derek says. He remembers Bucky’s lips against his, and the memory hurts a little. “It was a long time ago. Literally.”

“Did you…” Isaac seems to be at a loss of words.

“Did I what?” Derek squeezes his brow.

And that is when Stiles speaks. “Did you fuck him, is what he’s trying to ask.”

This is not even remotely the first time Derek has heard the word ‘fuck’ come out Stiles’ mouth, but for some reason it sounds purely sexual, harsh right now. It’s doing funny things to his body. “No, and even if I did, that would be none of your business.”

“So you wanted to?”

“I’m not – this is ridiculous.”

“Did you have a crush on him?” Stiles asks. Derek is not ready for this, it’s so unfair how Stiles seems capable of reading him like an open book. “Did you – holy  _hell_. Who was the guy?”

And that’s a bit too much. He will not start talking about Bucky, not now. “No-one. Can we – whose turn is it?”

“Like hell I’m letting this go, Cap.”

“You’re not getting anything from me, Stiles.”

“Anything?”

Derek’s neck snaps up at its own volition. “What about you?”

“What about me, Cap?”

“You ever… done that… with a man?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.” He licks at his lips.

“That’s not an answer.” Derek can’t help it, his eyes drop down to Stiles’ mouth, and he’s thinking about all the things he could teach Stiles, he could show him how a guy kisses, he wants to be Stiles’ first and last –

“I’ve never kissed a guy,” Isaac giggles, as if somebody missed it the first time around.

Derek purses his lips, makes himself busy with filling his cup.

“Oh, I know! Never have I ever kissed a woman,” Erica says and drinks. It’s a new round of laughter and intrusive questions. Derek smiles politely and looks at Stiles only to find him staring at him.

 

It’s ridiculous. Derek is ridiculous. He’s literally starting to flex his muscles whenever Stiles’ around. He’s constantly trying to make an impression on him. He knows Stiles looks at him sometimes, he can practically feel it on his skin, but Stiles does nothing else but looks and fires strictly playful flirtation at him.

Derek wants something more, but he is shy and inexperienced, unlike Stiles. So he thinks that for sure Stiles would take over the reigns if Derek only communicated clearly enough that he is interested.

On one occasion Derek even wears his old military uniform to a theme party. He’s in great hopes when he steps into the living room and Allison’s jaw drops slightly at the sight of him.

He gracefully accepts everyones praise and turns to Stiles, whose only words are, “Let’s go.”

He’s nearing the end of his rope, and damn, if that doesn’t make him mad and horny, at the same time.

 

One morning Stiles offers to take Derek to the art supplies store he wants to go. They drive to Brooklyn, and Derek says thank you. After that, they go to Park Avenue for ice cream. A very dashing Russian dame comes forward and offers Stiles her phone number. It’s killing Derek, but he forces a smile on his face.

Stiles reclines her offer. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m terribly busy with work, these days. I wouldn’t have the time to appreciate you properly.”

Derek can’t help but wonder whether it’s the truth.

Once they get back to the car, Derek sobers up and starts playing with a bottle of water. He’s got one request, one he’s wanted to ask for ages. Now’s as good time as any, right? So he asks Stiles to take him to the cemetery in Queens. He wants so desperately for Stiles to say yes. He wants him to  _know_.

“Yeah, sure,” comes Stiles’ answer. Derek is about to burst of happiness.

They get to Queens, and Derek is so, so nervous. Finally he finds Paige’s grave. He’s quiet for a while, taken over by all the memories, and then he talks about her, tries not to cry out loud. When Stiles lays a hand on his shoulder in consolation, Derek knows that this is the beginning of something amazing. Stiles accepts him just as he is, and in time Derek will do just the same.

 

Derek swears he’s tried everything, but Stiles just won’t catch. He invites Stiles out for drinks, but Stiles declines. During a movie night he sits next to Stiles, so that their thighs are touching all the time, but Stiles doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Derek gets so desperate that he asks Stiles whether he’d be willing to pose for a nude drawing, just for the sake of human anatomy studies, and Stiles practically runs away from him. 

Whenever Derek tries to get physically close, Stiles flinches away from him. Derek figures it likely has something to do with his gender. Stiles looks at him, but won’t touch, and Derek’s read that is one of the signals that someone is closeted. Derek is sad, but he refuses to give up. He won’t pressure him, but he’s sure Stiles is feeling it too. It’s only a matter of time. Derek will wait. After all he’s got nothing but time.

 

The breakthrough happens when Derek is once so bored out of his mind he’s just wandering around the mansion, looking for any sign of life. He finds Stiles out in the backyard testing a brand new version of his armor.

Derek looks at him for a while, adoring the smooth twists and turns, utterly captivated by the sight. Then he gets an idea. “Hey, do you think you could carry both of us?” he shouts.

Stiles halts mid-air, thinks about it for a minute, then lifts his visor up. “I could try,” he grins. “Suit up, Captain. We’re going for a ride.”

Derek flashes him a smile and complies.

It turns out to be very difficult, but Stiles manages it, of course, and he flies them far away from New York. Derek’s not scared, not even when he looks down at the ground and sees the cars and people are starting to resemble ants. He knows Stiles has his back.

Derek enjoys the speed, the fresh air in his hair, and he thinks he gets the connection between Stiles and Iron Man. He wouldn’t give up his shield for any price, but this suits Stiles. It’s wild, dangerous and all-consuming; addicting, just like the man himself.

Stiles flies them on top of a fast food restaurant, next to a huge figure that’s meant to embody a portion of curled fries. “Fond memories,” he chuckles.

Derek keeps peppering him with questions about the armor, and after a while Stiles’ whole demeanor changes. His eyes glint and he’s gesturing wildly with his hands, explaining the mechanics of Iron Man, painting pictures of absolute defensive perfection in the air.

He’s slightly out of breath, finishing a long and meandering rant about something called Extremis. He notices the dazed look on Derek’s face. “Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he grimaces. “I get a bit carried away, sometimes.”

“What? No,” Derek hurries to deny. “I think it’s amazing. You’re amazing.” He’s completely taken by Stiles’ passion, by how smart and creative he is, how unique of a mind he has. “I love watching your armor, it’s like – destructive art,” Derek says. He blushes slightly, but he needs to say it. He thinks Stiles needs to hear it, too.

Stiles chews at his bottom lip, looks far in the distance. “Thanks,” he mumbles after a minute of silence. He buys them some curled fries and Derek thinks this would totally count as a date, if he only got to kiss Stiles.

The kiss doesn’t come, though, but Derek doesn’t mind too much. This is progress,  _wonderful_ progress. They fly back home and wish each other good night. Derek goes to sleep and he can feel it in his bones: he’s finally starting to crack Stiles down.

 

Derek is well aware that Stiles likes sex. It’s not unusual at all to watch all the long-limbed girls leaving the mansion on mornings, and Derek has learnt to make his peace with it. They’re not the ones who have to deal with Stiles’ bad moods, but they’re also not the ones who get to see him when he’s sleepy and doing his ugly, adorable laugh that is one hundred percent genuine. Derek wants the raw, unadulterated version of Stiles without all the playboy millionaire shit even though he’s learned to like that part of him, too.

It hits him like a wrecking ball, when one morning he’s going for a jog, and goes to wait for the elevator. What he sees is Stiles kissing a man. Derek can definitely see the usage of tongue, and how they’re thrusting their hips together.

It punches the breath out of Derek.

The elevator chimes and the guy leaves. Derek can see that Stiles is half hard. Derek can’t find it in himself to do anything else but stare.

“Morning, Cap,” Stiles greets. He speaks loudly, straightens out to his full height as if he’s somehow on the defensive. Derek knows he should speak words, any kind of words, but he is frozen.

_So maybe you don’t want me, after all_ , he thinks.  _Maybe it’s not about me being a man, but me being me_. The moment is cut off by the Assemble Alarm, startling them both into action.

 

It’s by far the worst performance in a battle Derek’s ever given. He gets hurt, and Deaton wants him to report in after being patched up. Derek walks into the headquarters with his brand new stitches and goes up to Deaton’s office only to find a very beautiful dame waiting there, instead.

“I’m sorry,” Derek pardons. “Would you happen to know where Deaton is?”

“Oh, he’ll be back right away,” the lady says. “I’m just waiting for him.”

“Derek,” he only then remembers his manners.

“Braeden,” she smiles. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m not sure I want to incapacitate you further.” She nods at the fresh padding on Derek’s hand.

Derek blushes slightly. He doesn’t get a word in when the door opens.

“Hi,” Deaton comes in. “Derek, this is my niece, Braeden. Braeden, may I introduce Captain America.”

“Yeah, we just met,” Braeden tells him.

Derek confirms he’s totally okay and Deaton tells him to be more careful from now on. Derek is not in the mood for this, he wants to go home and draw his heart out, but then Deaton clears his throat. “Braeden is new to the city. I was wondering whether you could maybe show her around?”

“Alan, oh my god, please no,” Braeden groans, ashamed of her uncle’s behaviour.

To be honest, Derek can’t imagine anything better, right now. It’ll take his mind off both Stiles and the injury. “If she wants me to, then sure.”

Braeden’s hesitating but clearly hopeful. “Really? I don’t want to bother you.”

“I’d be happy to keep you company,” Derek smiles at her and means every word. 

They get out of there and go have dinner, at first. They walk it off for what feels like hours, and they talk about everything between the moon and the earth. When it gets late, Derek walks her back to her apartment. Braeden presses a kiss to his cheek, and Derek doesn’t turn away.

 

Braeden is so, so lovely. He treats her the best he can, and she is so good to him, so patient and kind. They go dancing and they visit the zoo, and Derek feels only slightly guilty when he holds her hand while the paparazzi are taking pictures.

Eventually he takes her to bed and it’s nice, they laugh a little and Derek holds her a long time, afterwards. Derek likes kissing at the scars on her neck, likes making her come, and he doesn’t think of Stiles too often when she takes him in her mouth.

The first time he’s nervous at all about her is when Stiles finally meets her. Go figure.

They’re about to start on their weekly movie night when a sleep-deprived Stiles appears. “Stiles,” Lydia calls.

“Nope, busy.” Stiles gropes around the refrigerator.

“Come meet Braeden,” Lydia says.

“Who the fuck is Braeden?”

And isn’t that lovely. “Let’s not bother him, he’s got things to do,” Derek says.

“Nothing is more important than you, sweetie,” Stiles says immediately, turns his full attention on them.

Braeden fidgets next to Derek. “Hi, I’m Braeden.”

Stiles looks at her up and down, and opens his stupid fucking mouth. “Are those claw marks?”

“Stiles.” Derek cannot believe the man, he just  _can’t_.

“What?”

“It’s okay,” Braeden laughs, because she’s too precious for this world. “Yeah, they are. I work with wolves. Accidents happen.”

“Cool,” Stiles says. And then he stays quiet. Everybody is amazed, and he just nods. “So, you’re the one with – you’re together now. Huh.”

“Very elaborate. Wanna come watch a movie with us?” Allison suggests.

Stiles declines and hurries away as fast as his feet can carry. Erica tries to call after him, unsuccessfully. “Well, isn’t he a ball of sunlight,” Braeden whispers in Derek’s ear, and he tries to smile. He really does.

 

After that it’s just impossible to get a hold on Stiles. He turns away every single time Derek tries to connect with him. Finally Derek goes down to the lab, attempting to talk to him. Stiles sees him and darkens the windows, and that’s when Derek decides it’s not on him, anymore.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he stops trying. He’s so damn frustrated and he’d like to know what went wrong, but apparently there’s nothing he can do.

Soon enough they’re fighting against Loki, and Stiles, being the stupid human he is, throws himself in front of a bullet that was meant for Derek. It’s one of those Loki’s Asgardian weapons, so Stiles is bleeding in result.

Because of Derek. Derek has never been this angry.

SHIELD takes Loki away and Derek pushes at Stiles, the rest of the Avengers gathered around them. “What the hell were you doing?”

Stiles merely rolls his eyes. “You’re very welcome, Derek.”

“You can’t do that ever again,” Derek says. He doesn’t get any response. “Do you hear me?” he says louder, stepping even closer. They’re practically having a stare-off, and Derek feels like there’s liquid fire flowing through his veins.

“Shut up, Cap. I’m the best you’ve got,” Stiles huffs. He wobbles a little on his leg.

“The best? Yeah, right, look at you,” Derek is absolutely furious. He’s spouting whatever comes to mind. “Right now you’re just a burden!”

“What the hell, Cap?”

“You’re only human, Stiles. Accept it,” Derek says.

 “Wow,” Stiles laughs without being amused at all. “You’re such an asshole. What about Boyd, huh? Or, or Lydia? Alli? What about them?”

“They’re not stupid like you,” Derek grits out. “They accept the fact that this is a team, not a one-man-show – fucking hell, Stiles.” Derek knows he’s causing  a scene, but he’s just so goddamn  _angry_.

“Did I get a  _curse_ out of you? Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner.”

“Stop. This isn’t funny, it’s not a game, stop treating this like it’s something to laugh at. You got hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You nearly died, Stilinski.” Derek is proud of how his voice doesn’t waver at all. He’s not proud of how he’s overreacting to the wound, though. “You are of zero use to me if you’re not capable of listening to orders.”

“Go fuck yourself and the high horse you rode in on,” Stiles says. “I’m out.” He takes flight before anyone can stop him. Scott roars and charges after him, but Stiles blasts his repulsors at him.

“Nailed it, Cap,” Boyd compliments. Derek flips him the bird and sulks for the rest of the day.

 

Well, more than for the rest of the day. For two weeks, more like. He’s ranting about it to Braeden when she stops him.

“Derek, I don’t think this is working.”

“I know, right? But I’ve tried talking to Deaton, and he just says that Stiles is a grown man and he’s gotta deal with his own problems,” Derek blasts. “Why doesn’t anybody understand that he’s just so irresponsible, he can’t – somebody needs to protect him.”

Braeden comes sit next to him on his bed, shakes her head softly. “No, Derek, I meant you and me.”

“I… what do you mean?”

“I refuse to play second fiddle in your life, anymore,” Braeden says. She looks sad.

“You knew what you were getting into,” Derek swallows. “I will always be an Avenger. You knew it from the start.” He understands where this is coming from, but he truly thought Braeden had known what being with Captain America meant.

“That I could easily handle, but I meant Stiles,” Braeden says.

“What about Stiles?” Derek blinks.

“I think you’re in love with him.”

“What? Don’t be  ridiculous.”

Braeden looks at him like she’s totally unimpressed at everything Derek has ever chosen to be. “Really?”

“I’m not in… that… with Stiles. That’s just crazy.”

“Derek,” Braeden says gently and takes his hand. “You talk about him all the time. And I really mean it,  _all_ the time. Frankly, I just want to end this before I hear you whispering his name when you’re kissing me.”

Derek’s astonished. “But – no, I can’t be.”

“I still want to be friends with you, though,” Braeden says and gives him a hug. It’s very much needed, Derek can admit that much.

 

That night, Derek seeks Stiles out. He hasn’t seen him in days, so he goes straight to the lab. Dummy lets him in. Stiles is once again passed out on the floor. Derek picks him up.

“Has anybody ever tried to stop him from doing this?” Derek asks quietly.

“With very slight success,” Jarvis says. He sounds relieved and concerned at the same time, and it makes something tighten up in Derek’s chest.

Stiles stirs, mumbles something unintelligible. “Really, Stiles. One day, you are going to have to tell me what‘s going on with you.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t you just love to know,” Stiles chuckles.

They reach Stiles’ bedroom. Derek tucks him gently in bed, pulls the covers over his body. “Good night.”

Stiles has apparently fallen asleep. That’s the only reason Derek dares to press his lips against his forehead and run a tender hand through Stiles’ hair. He goes to the bathroom, rummages through the shelves and leaves a glass of water and a painkiller next to Stiles’ bed.

Tomorrow, they would talk. And Derek will take care of Stiles from now on. That’s a promise.

 

Except for the next morning Stiles is nowhere to be found. He only appears late into the night accompanied by two breathtakingly stunning guys.

Derek’s on the roof terrace enjoying a cup of tea with Erica when the three of them come stumbling in. Stiles gropes at the blonde one’s ass and whispers something in the brunette’s ear that must be terribly funny, judging by how he nearly doubles over in laughter.

Then the blonde sees Derek and Erica and stops dead in his tracks.

“Holy shit, that’s  _Captain America_ ,” he gasps, emerald green eyes dilating with lust.

Stiles takes off his douchey red-tinted aviators just so he can visibly roll his eyes at the remark. “Aren’t you a bright one.”

The blonde paws at Stiles’ chest. “Can I go talk to him?”

“Oh, sweetcheeks, that would only be a horrendous waste of our precious time together. He’s quite a bore,” Stiles sneers. “Not one for foursomes, I’m afraid.”

“That’s such a shame,” the brunette pouts.

Derek wishes he couldn’t believe what he’s hearing, but by now he’s learnt to not expect anything better from Stiles.

“Now excuse us, I have to go talk metaphysics with these two,” Stiles smiles at Erica. “Maybe we’ll play a round of chess, too. Talk about world peace.”

“I thought you were going to copulate with them,” Erica says with great seriousness.

“Well, that, too,” Stiles beams. “Take care. See you, Cap.” He smirks and opens up the door for his lovers. “In you go, pets.”

They take off. Erica starts talking about the mating traditions of Asgard, but Derek doesn’t hear a thing. He concentrates on reminding himself why it would be such a terrible idea to barge after Stiles, throw him against a wall and kiss him to death.

 

Derek is sulking in his room, when there’s a cautious knock on the door. For the slightest of moments Derek wishes it were Stiles, but Lydia steps in. “Can I sit?” she asks.

“Be my guest,” he mumbles, turns back to scrawl dark circles on his sketch book.

“So, I haven’t seen Braeden around for a while,” Lydia gets straight to the point. Derek can appreciate that.

“I’m not seeing her anymore.”

“Why?”

“She accused me of being in love with Stiles.” Derek chuckles mirthlessly. He’s fully expecting for Lydia to laugh, but she remains completely expressionless.

“Well, are you?”

Derek’s throat dries out. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not.”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

“What makes you even think – “

“Do not consider me stupid.”

“I’d never.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Please.”

Derek breathes in and out. Slow. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“How come?”

“I’m just – “ Derek is helpless, he’s never been at such loss of words. “He keeps taking and taking, and I get nothing in return.”

Lydia looks at him very seriously. “Love is not a trade.”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“But you might as well be.”

“Yeah,” Derek whispers. “Well, that.”

Lydia comes closer, pats at his shoulder. “I’ve got ice cream and The Notebook.”

Derek smiles. He feels slightly broken, but he knows it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. “Why didn’t you say so right away?”

 

Derek’s absorbed in his copy of ‘Love for Dummies’, which is actually Dummy’s manual and not a self-help book, when suddenly a wild Stiles appears.

“Sorry, are we talking again?” Derek snips at him. It’s been more than a couple weeks since they’ve had a civil conversation.

“Can you just listen.” Stiles won’t even look him in the eyes, and that hurts more than it probably should.

“I’m not in the mood of getting my head chopped off, but thanks.”

“Come on.”

“Is it serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Life-or-death-serious?”

“Well – no.”

“Then I’m comfortable right here.”

“Derek.” Stiles says. Then he says the magic word. He must know it too, the manipulative bastard. “Please.”

“Fine,” Derek sighs. The sooner this is over with, the better.

Stiles leads them down to his lab. In the middle of the room awaits a gift box, which Stiles tells him to open.

“Is there anything inside that could kill me?” Derek is wary. He’s heard all the weird clattering and banging coming down from here. Maybe this is all a plot. Stiles can’t stand him anymore and wants to kill him. Great. Derek doesn’t feel horrible, at all.

“No. Well, I don’t think so. Or that’d be one of the weirdest deaths ever, I’d think.”

“Not really helpful.”

“Come on, you big baby. It’s yours,” Stiles pursues. Derek is a man enough to admit his curiosity has come to life. It takes him ages to cut through the wrapping, but when he’s done – well. He finds his old motorcycle from 70 years ago, except it’s not old, it is restored to its original glory.

Stiles rambles something about the paint job, but Derek can’t listen to anything he says right now. He’s enchanted and can’t hold back a slight, strangled sob.

“Oh, don’t – come on. I didn’t – Derek, please.”

“This is amazing. Where’d you find it?”

“My dad’s had it the whole time. He’s kept it for you, and, well, now you’re here, so I thought I’d finish the job.”

Derek closes his eyes. He can remember the exact moment he’d learned of Laura’s death and found out this motorcycle was all that’s left of her. “This used to be my sister’s.”

“Yeah?”

“Laura’s.”

“That’s… good.”

Stiles gives him the keys. Derek can’t keep his eyes off Stiles, who starts fidgeting. “So, I just wanted to – I know I can be – “ Stiles mumbles, and Derek can’t help but hug him.

He puts his head on Stiles’ shoulder, tells himself it’s all because he’s just so shaken up. Stiles doesn’t answer to the hug, and it kills Derek a bit inside. “Thanks,” Derek says, pulls away as soon as he realizes he must be making things really, really awkward.

Stiles’ picking at his sleeves, still looking at the ground. “You can stay. Jarvis will tell you how to proceed.”

“Thanks,” Derek repeats, turning back to the motorcycle. He can’t meet Stiles’ eyes, maybe not ever again.

“You’re welcome, big guy,” Stiles says and then gets out of there like Hell’s on his heels.

 

Derek drives until he’s so tired his eyes won’t stay open anymore. He stops to watch the sunset, and then makes a call.

Paige’s granddaughter agrees to meet him for breakfast. She introduces herself as Jennifer, and she’s just as beautiful as her grandma. They talk, and she shows him pictures of Paige. She tells him Paige lived a happy life and didn’t stop talking about Derek until the very moment she passed away.

“Do you have anyone special in your life, right now?” Jennifer asks.

“It’s – complicated.”

“Isn’t it always,” she sighs. “Well, pardon me for this but I’m slightly happy to hear you superheroes have humane problems, too.”

They part ways after hours of talking. “Good luck with everything, Derek,” she says and gives him her phone number. He says thank you and drives away, and makes a vow to himself: he will not cling on to the past, anymore. That includes Stiles, too.

 

He holds on to the promise the very next night. Lydia’s attending some huge ball that’s got things to do with fashion, and asks Derek to join her. Apparently he makes for great arm-candy, so he complies.

Lydia loves playing innocent, but there’s a certain spark in her eyes when she introduces Derek to Tony. Tony’s a dashing billionaire, and he’s older than what Derek usually goes for, but he’s certainly fascinating and reminds Derek of Stiles in every aspect except for his looks. They spend the whole evening talking, and when Tony asks if he can take Derek back to his hotel, Derek refuses. He invites Tony back to his place, instead.

He’s nervous when they go to bed, but then decides to just come out with it, confessing he hasn’t slept with a man before. Tony kisses him softly, so softly, says they can stop if he wants, but Derek doesn’t want to do that. Tony says he feels extremely privileged to be the one Derek’s chosen for his first time. They kiss again and Tony is sweet and takes such good care of him. Tony fucks him and Derek comes harder than ever before.

 

The morning after Tony attends their breakfast and manages to charm everyone. He plays footsie with Derek under the table, but Derek drops dead once Stiles stumbles in.

Derek walks Tony outside and accepts a kiss from him. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come to Malibu with me?” Tony pouts.

“I’m afraid not,” Derek laughs. “I’ve a job to do.”

“Yeah, I’m not complaining. I’ll have the forever bragging rights, I mean, I’ve banged Captain America, who else can say that?” Tony says brightly. His car arrives and Tony pulls Derek into another deep kiss.

He gets into the car and Derek waves at him. Tony rolls the window down and yells, “Go get him, tiger!”, and Derek doesn’t have time to ask for clarifications before he's gone.

Derek shakes his head, gets back to the others. Stiles raises his voice. “Who was that?”

“You should ask Derek,” Allison says.

“Well?”

“Nobody,” Derek concentrates on digging into his pile of waffles.

“Doesn’t that sound convincing.”

“He was just a guy. Nothing more.”

Allison giggles. Isaac joins her. Because they’re a bunch of first graders, obviously.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to catch up. “Wait, he… stayed here? With you? The whole night?”

“Derek’s bed is warm again,” Erica bellows. She looks ridiculously excited by the prospect that one of her teammate’s gotten laid.

“But – but – what happened to Braeden?” Stiles sounds completely lost.

Derek frowns. “That? It was over a long time ago,” he shrugs. Sometimes he’s not even sure they really live under the same roof.

“Oh.  _Oh_.”

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Erica asks. Derek doesn’t dare to look at him.

“I’m fine."

Derek takes a deep, deep breath. He’s not sure what Tony meant, but he’s gonna be a tiger, now. “Yes, you are,” he says, and tries to look more confident than he’s feeling. He scans Stiles from head to toe, slowly, so slowly, taking his fill in, just like Stiles had done to him back when they’d first met.

Stiles splutters and then the unexpectable happens: he  _blushes_. Derek doesn’t hear a word anybody else says after that.

 

Erica’s invited some friends over from Asgard, and so they’re having a party. Stiles is drunk, which is clear by the way he’s petting at Derek’s biceps. Derek’s really wishing he hadn’t worn such tight jeans, today.

“You’re a work of art. If I knew how, I’d paint you. Just like a French girl,” Stiles slurs at him.

Derek doesn’t dare say a word. He hasn’t had Stiles this close in months, and he’s weak.

“Your eyes are so amazing, have I ever told you that? I mean, is that even a color?” Stiles gets closer. He looks at Derek’s eyes, then at his mouth, and that’s when Derek knows he can’t let this go any further.

Derek pushes him gently away. “You’re drunk.”

“Why, yes I am. You’re not. If we’re just stating the obvious, here.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your bed,” Derek sighs, although he doesn’t want to.

“Is that an offer?”

“What would that be an offer for?”

Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s chest. “Oh, you know. If you just wanna see my bed, you should say so.”

“Stop this.” Derek is not about to take advantage of Stiles. He wants him sober and consenting, or at least not when he’s so drunk he can barely walk two steps without tripping.

“Stop what?”

Derek secures Stiles’ wandering hand between his own, brings it to his lips. He wants these fingers inside him so, so badly. “I‘m not going to be like all of your girls, Stiles.”

He breathes out through his nose and tries to will Stiles understand through the power of his mind only. Why can’t Stiles see that he’s there for him, will always be there for him, if he only could reach for him without alcohol as a safety blanket?

Stiles’ mouth crumples. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” he says, yanks his hand back and wanders off. Derek calms himself and goes to the gym. He needs to punch at something, repeatedly, and most of all, he needs to get the hell away from Stiles for a while.

 

It’s Stiles’ birthday. Lydia and Heather organize a party for him, and Derek’s happy to learn it’s not going to be a big one, just a gathering of the closest friends.

Derek realizes he hasn’t got the slightest clue what to buy Stiles for a gift. What do you get the man who’s richer than the British royalty, and then some? He feels shy about it, but decides to call Heather for advice.

She laughs for a good few minutes. Derek thinks she’s making fun of him, but then she says, “You could give him a piece of paper with just your name written on it, and he’d build a shrine for it,” and hangs up.

In the end Derek doesn’t buy Stiles anything. He asks for his personal belongings from SHIELD and goes through them, finds all the photographs he has of Stiles’ parents. He knew them back in his time, and there’s a lot of pictures, some of them including Derek himself. Derek knows it’s a risky move, Stiles could get mad as hell for the reminder of them, but he decides to take the chance.

Derek gives the album to Stiles in private, and Stiles goes silent, which is a rarity in itself. He nods curtly and doesn’t even say thank you. Derek’s afraid he’s offended him, somehow, but later on Stiles comes and hugs Derek so tight he thinks his ribs are about to break. He lingers on, presses a dry kiss on Derek’s cheek and doesn’t talk to him for days.

 

Along comes Las Vegas. They’re in a club, a very  _discreet_ club, he hears the bartender say, and he’s dancing with two guys. One of them kisses him. It feels good, it’s just a nice kiss, nothing else, but then Derek realizes somebody’s staring at them.

“Stiles?”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Stiles snaps at the twins. They leave immediately.

“What now,” Derek sighs. He really hopes Stiles won’t yell at him, and what right does he have to chastise Derek about getting it on with strangers, anyway? It’s not like Stiles hasn’t done much worse things in public than simply kissing a man.

So imagine Derek’s surprise when Stiles tells him to shut up and starts dancing with him. He pushes a hand under Derek’s shirt, and Derek doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. He hopes to god Stiles won’t notice how hard he is, just from dancing, but then  _he does_ , and Derek’s pulse is beating a mile a minute.

“You’re hard,” Stiles whispers in his ear. Derek hasn’t ever felt anything as good as the hot air against his sensitive skin.

And this is it, Derek knows, this is their point of no return, so he’s going to make it count. He pushes his crotch against Stiles’, so that their cocks are in touch. He shivers at the contact, and he wants this  _so bad_  he doesn’t have words for it. “So are you,” he murmurs. “Is that… could that be something you want?”

Stiles leads them out.

 

They get back to the hotel, going straight into Stiles’ suit, and Derek wishes he could stop running his own mouth, he knows he’s saying too much too soon, but he can’t control himself. He wants Stiles to know he’s crazy about him, that he’s thought about this before.

It’s like every single fantasy he’s ever had, all squeezed into one. Except much better, because this is  _real_. Stiles lets Derek put his tongue on his cock and finger him, and takes it all with greed.

Then finally Derek pushes inside Stiles’ ass and he swears he can see stars. Stiles is pure perfection. He’s desperate and beautiful, and looks so good around Derek’s cock. He keeps whining and writhing like he can’t get enough, and Derek makes damn sure he comes first. Afterwards Derek licks him clean and swears to never let go.

 

The next day they get back to New York, and Derek is the happiest he’s ever been. He meets up with Jennifer, and she asks him about his love life. Derek blushes and says it’s going great, and she squeals in delight.

They’ve got a charity ball planned for the evening. Derek puts on his sharpest suit, and when they all meet downstairs, Stiles is completely absorbed in his phone. “Work stuff,” Heather explains, and so Derek waits patiently.

They get to the ball, and Stiles is surrounded by people, important people, the whole time. Derek doesn’t mind, he finds his own company. He runs into Braeden at one point, and it’s actually not awkward, and he’s happy about that.

Derek has just dodged the governor’s wife’s seduction attempt, when he sees Stiles from across the room. He smiles at him relieved, and Stiles smiles back, and Derek is so happy, but then Stiles goes over to some pretty women and starts talking to them.

Work stuff, Derek tries to keep in mind, but then he sees how the girls are laughing at Stiles’ jokes, and he fills up with dread. It’s like watching a train wreck happening right in front of his eyes. Stiles puts his hand on the other girl’s thigh, and Derek can’t take it any more. He goes straight home, to bed, and tries to numb himself.

 

He can’t sleep, though. He just rolls around in his sheets, cold sweat covering his whole body, and he tries to forgive and forget but he can’t get the sight of Stiles and those girls out of his mind. And he can’t wrap his mind around the endless stream of  _why_? He thought he’d done everything right, that finally Stiles would stop playing around, he was so sure that after Vegas they could find their own piece of happiness, but now he’s got to admit he’s not sure of it, not sure at all.

Maybe that’s all Stiles wanted; a quick fuck. The thought makes Derek disgusted with himself, but not with Stiles. He’s known the whole time what Stiles is like, and if he’s read the situation wrong, well – who else is there to blame but himself? Stiles owes him nothing, so maybe Derek should just stop asking for things that were never there.

It’s 2AM when he hears noise behind his door, so Derek gets up and freezes in place when he sees Stiles standing there.

Stiles is quiet. He looks like he’s still slightly drunk, his hair a right, proper mess, and Derek hates how much he wants him, still.

“I thought I heard someone,” Derek breaks the silence when Stiles won’t do so.

“Can I come in?” Stiles asks.

Derek is surprised. “You sure you want to?”

“Yeah.”

Derek steps aside, lets him in. Scrambles between the sheets, doesn’t know what the hell else he is supposed to do. He can hear Stiles shuffling around, probably getting undressed, and then the covers are being lifted. Out of the sudden he feels fingers tracing his tattoo, and that’s enough of bullshit for tonight.

He turns to look at Stiles and raises walls around his heart. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?”

“Do what?”

“ _Stiles_.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles mumbles it against the pillow, and if Derek were any wiser, he’d throw him out right away. He knows he deserves a proper apology, but he can’t help himself. He’s learned to know Stiles, really know him, and he knows Stiles has so many issues and he’s often very poor with people. All this he knows, and still he hasn’t got the strength to say no.

He thinks that says more about himself than the man lying next to him.

“I know.” Derek closes his eyes. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.” Stiles whispers.

Derek tries to calm his mind, but how could he ever do that with Stiles so near? It feels like his heart is desperately trying to reach out for Stiles, but he will not do that, he’s not that weak. He stops listening to his stupid emotions and does what his body asks for, instead; shuffles so that their legs are touching. It’s not enough, but it’ll do for the night.

 

As it goes, Stiles actually happens to be very busy with work, so they don’t get as much time together as Derek would like. But when they spend time alone, Stiles is good and gentle and caring, and he opens up a little about his mom and his father, too. Derek listens carefully and talks about losing his family. Everything is falling in its rightful place.

Valentine’s Day comes around. Stiles tells him not to make any plans. They stay at the mansion and enjoy dinner, just the two of them. They talk and laugh for hours, and when they go to Stiles’ bed, he puts his hand on Derek’s abs and pets at him. Derek shakes his head, even though he’s so hard it hurts. He turns around and makes Stiles be the big spoon. He feels safe and doesn’t get any nightmares.

 

Two weeks pass, and they’re filled with lots of making out and heavy petting. Derek doesn’t still feel quite comfortable having sex with Stiles. It’s not that he doesn’t want him, he’d be mad not to, but something inside tells him waiting’s the right thing to do, so he listens to it and turns down Stiles’ advances whenever he tries to take it beneath the clothes.

Stiles goes away on a business trip for six days, and they have shy phone sex on the fourth day. When Stiles finally gets back home, he comes barging in Derek’s bedroom in the middle of the night, shaking all over, pointing a finger at him.

“Can you just – Derek, I want to have you in my mouth. That’s all. I don’t care what else we do, but I can’t stand this anymore, I think about it all the time, I can’t – just,  _please_."

Derek blinks at him. Stiles crosses the room and kneels in front of Derek, looking up at him with his impossible eyes, all but pleading. “Please, tell me I can.”

“Yeah,” Derek nods. His throat feels dry. “Yeah, you can.”

Stiles lets out a visible sigh of relief, takes off Derek’s pants and licks at his cock. His mouth is doing many a beautiful things to Derek’s body, he’s tingling all over, his brain leaking out of his dick.

“Stiles,” he gasps when Stiles deepthroats him, “I’m so close.”

“Fuck my mouth,” Stiles demands, “I want to feel your cum on my tongue.” He dives back in, brings Derek’s hands in his hair.

After that, all bets are off. Derek can’t keep his dick off Stiles. Stiles is a cock whore, always ready to take it, always willing to bend over whenever Derek wants him. They fuck in the shower, they fuck up against the wall, down the lab, against Derek’s motorcycle and in the living room when everyone else is gone. Just everywhere.

One time Stiles wants to slow bone him, which Derek thinks is just a flimsy pseudonym for making love. There’s lots of eye contact and hand holding involved, so Derek doesn’t necessarily mind. They come in synch and Derek knows he’s simply ruined for anyone else. He says it out loud. 

“Good,” Stiles purrs, “’cause I’m planning on keeping you for a long, long time.”

 

Derek’s in the middle of a workout when Scott joins him. “I just wanted to say that I’m really happy for you.”

“Oh, um,” Derek can’t help but get a bit flustered. “Thanks. So am I. Happy, I mean.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Scott grins. If he were a dog, his tail would be beating holes on the floor. “And I just wanted you to know that I think Stiles is really happy, too. Like, dude. You should see his face when he talks about you.”

“That’s great,” Derek says. His cheeks are heating up. “I want nothing more.”

“He hasn’t got a lot of experience with that,” Scott sombers up, quickly. The mood changes immediately. “People who wish only good for him.”

“Oh?”

Scott tells him about Obadiah, Stiles’ father figure who literally ripped his heart out his chest. If the guy wasn't dead already, Derek would find him and rip him to pieces. Scott makes him promise he won’t tell Stiles he knows, and he pinky-promises. But Derek will not forget, and he swears he’ll never let anyone hurt Stiles again. Not if he can help it.

 

They face off against a resurrected Peter, who’s apparently turned into a wannabe-Magneto. Stiles shoots him down and Derek yells at him to stop pretending to be a hero.

Yeah, he really could’ve coped better with that.

He finds Stiles afterwards on the workshop, and knows to approach with caution. There’s music blasting and Stiles is working on something that looks very pricey and hostile.

“Stiles,” Derek tries. He doesn’t even turn. Derek settles down and plays with Dummy for a while. Stiles remains unresponsive, until Derek sighs and commands Jarvis to turn down the music.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks.

“Playing a hero, apparently,” Stiles’ smile is all sweet saccharine.

Derek is deeply ashamed of himself and all his life choices. “I really shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why? It’s only the truth.”

“No, it’s not.”

Stiles claps his hands which means he’s done with work, and Derek looks at him hopefully. Finally Stiles turns to him, but when he opens his mouth, it’s practically the last thing Derek expects or even wants to hear right now. “Do you wanna fuck?”

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

“I – Stiles,” Derek feels awful, but Stiles looks bored already and Derek is scared out of his mind. He follows Stiles up, up to his bedroom, and Stiles gets on the bed.

“Let me fuck you, Derek,” Stiles coaxes and then gets his hands on Derek, so Derek surrenders.

“Alright,” he says, “Always, always.” They get undressed, and Stiles pushes him against the mattress and gets inside him. Derek can’t help but moan and shake, it’s so good but it’s tearing him apart, too. Stiles is usually vocal during sex, always going on about pet names and praises, but now he’s keeping his quiet and also his distance.

“Stiles, I – I want you so much,” Derek sobs. 

“I want this so much,” Stiles answers. He bites down on Derek’s bottom lip and then he’s coming inside Derek, Derek can feel his hot thick cum inside, and Derek comes too. He wants to be good for Stiles.

They separate, and Derek’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure Stiles can hear it. He gets closer, because why not. Suddenly he wonders if he really gets to keep Stiles. “Do you think they’re the same?” he breathes.

“What’s the same?” Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head. “Nothing.” He feels stupid, like he’s said too much but none of the right things. “Goodnight, Stiles,” he says and hopes to the highest of heavens this will not be the last time he falls asleep next to this magnificent, astonishing man he’s carved a home out of for himself.

 

Deaton calls him up. He’s not in the habit of beating around the bush and he won’t do it this time, either. He tells Derek to sit down and looks at him dead in the eye and says, “So I’ve heard you and Stilinski are having sex.”

Derek is very careful to not let his embarrassment shine through. Deaton’s a shark, whenever he sees people being uncomfortable in his presence he only presses on. Derek takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“No, sir.”

Deaton nods in acceptance. He stands up, stalks to the window. “It’s only a matter of time before this gets out to the press.”

“We’re not ready to go public yet.”

“Why?”

“We’re just – not.”

“Times have changed. I don’t think anybody could hate Captain America or Iron Man for being gay. Well, nobody reasonable.”

“It’s not about that.”

“What is it about, then?”

“Private matters.” Derek doesn’t want to explain. He just knows that going public would add so much pressure on their already fragile relationship, and he’s not a hundred percent sure they could take it. Well, if Stiles could, namely. But thinking about that just makes him depressed, so he avoids it as much as he can.

Luckily, Deaton doesn’t pressure him. “I won’t ask, because frankly, I don’t want to hear. But I’m just warning you that I don’t know how much longer we can keep this under wraps.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Deaton nods. Stares at Derek, who’s still sitting. “Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get out.”

“Yes, yes, sir,” Derek scrambles up. He’s just about to leave, when he hears a gruff voice behind him.

“Also – congratulations.”

Derek turns. Tries to hide his smile. “Thank you, sir.” He leaves.

 

Derek receives an invitation to Jennifer’s wedding. Bringing an avec is much encouraged, the invite says.  _Why not_ , he chuckles and asks Stiles to come with him, just for the sake of it, completely sure he’d be met with a made up excuse and a pat on the shoulder. Instead, Stiles shrugs and says yes.

Derek is flabbergasted, but he can’t deny the rush of pleasure he feels at Stiles’ easy admission. He doesn’t quite believe it’s true until they’re watching Jennifer’s veil being lifted and she gets her very first married kiss.

The wedding guests treat Derek and Stiles like they couldn’t be any less impressed by the presence of Captain America and Iron Man. Derek thinks Jennifer must’ve ordered them all to keep it cool, which he feels very thankful for. It’s lovely to see the newlyweds being showered with so much joy and happiness and he can just be there to witness it all. Derek can’t remember the last time he’s felt so  _normal_ around people. It’s a feeling he’s missed quite a lot, he realizes.

“Derek,” Jennifer comes to him at one point, and beside her is a very old man who’s taking support of a cane. “This is my grandpa, Elliot.”

Derek startles. Elliot has just turned a hundred and seven, but Derek recognizes his face; remembers what he looked like in his twenties. For Derek it hasn’t been but a little over a year they last met. He was working at SHIELD back in the 40’s, and Derek can recall the moment they met like it was only yesterday, but Elliot speaks of the wartime as if it beholds the nature of a dusty ghoul, something so ancient it makes Derek feel like walking, talking antique.

_This is the man Paige married_ , the realization kicks at him like a horse.  _I wonder whether he ever took her dancing._

They exchange pleasantries and Elliot thanks Derek for saving his life, back at some point in the past. Derek wishes he could say more, but in the end he just nods helplessly and excuses himself.

He needs some air, he can’t handle this, all these people around him, and that’s when the thought crosses his mind: this is Paige’s legacy. Half of these people share her blood, they’ve had the chance to have her in their lives for years, and all Derek got with her was a fleeting fraction of time, nothing else.

They’d had a date. Derek wonders whether these could be his children, grandchildren, nieces and cousins if he had only been a little quicker, little stronger, a little more brave.

He thinks he’s about to have a panic attack, when Stiles finds him. “What are you here for, all alone?” he asks. Derek doesn’t answer, he can’t, and Stiles understands immediately that something’s wrong.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, “breathe. Breathe with me, Derek.” He counts their breaths and finally Derek sighs, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Stiles asks quietly.

“No,” Derek answers, his voice just as low. “No, I’m fine. I promise.” He smiles.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks. “We can go home, if you want to.”

“Absolutely not,” Derek answers. “Let’s just. Hey, what about – the cake looks delicious. I’m gonna get some of that. You wanna come with?”

Stiles nods and smiles back at him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Derek for hours.

Derek feels a little better, after a while. He laughs at the best man’s speech and it’s true, the cake is absolutely delicious. The night falls dark around them and that’s when Stiles grins and holds a hand out to him.

“Care to dance?”

Derek looks around them. The band is playing a beautiful melody and there’s a lot of couples on the floor. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?”

“What will people say?”

“I really couldn’t care any less.” Stiles looks at him with great amount of challenge in his eyes. “Come on, Cap. I doubt anyone will even notice.”

So Derek lets Stiles lead him out to the floor. Stiles doesn’t try to kiss him, but he does press very close to Derek, and lets out a happy little sigh. The sparkling lights all around them combined with the emotional rollercoaster of the day makes Derek bold. “Do you think that one day you’ll…”

“I’ll what?” Stiles speaks softly. “Derek?"

_Here go hell come_ , Derek thinks. “Would you like to get married?” He very decidedly does not look Stiles in the eye as he says it.

Stiles steps on Derek’s foot accidentally. Then he lets out a nervous little laugh. “That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard,” he makes a joke out of it.

“It wasn’t a proposal,” Derek says and he can more feel than hear Stiles’ relieved sigh. “No, I just mean,” he starts, but it seems like he just can’t finish any of his sentences today.

Stiles is unnaturally quiet. Then, “I don’t know. Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?” Derek’s heart starts picking up pace for some reason he’s not entirely sure he wants to admit even to himself.

“On whom I’d be doing it with, mostly.”

“Oh.” This is the very first time Derek finds himself wishing he had some other superpower than serum enchased strength and speed. Turning into a great big pile of dust would be terribly useful right now.

They continue dancing inside their own, silent bubble, until the party dies out. They drive home in silence.

 

Erica goes berserk when July 4th arrives. She’s immediately taken with the balloons, the food and the overall patriotism. Lydia promises she’ll take Erica to Brazil, sometime, to experience a real carnival. But for now, this’ll have to do.

In the middle of the parade the Empire State Building blows up. It doesn’t take long to figure out Mandarin’s behind the attack. They suit up as fast as they can.

Stiles comes up with a plan. Well, it’s not a plan, really, rather than Stiles just charging at Mandarin all by himself. Derek sends his shield flying, and Mandarin stumbles for a second, taken aback by the pure force of the hit. But then he turns at Stiles and lifts his hands.

“Fuck, no,” Derek breathes, and Stiles turns on their private channel.

“Derek,” comes the voice at his ear. “Derek, I love you. Just thought you‘d want to know. Bye.”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, without any use. Stiles and Mandarin make contact mid-air, and Stiles blasts his repulsors. Mandarin works his rings, and they’re covered in blinding light, then smoke, and then there’s a  _bang_.

Derek screams his heart out.

 

“Get out of my way,” Derek screeches at Deaton, who’s holding him at arm’s length. The guy is surprisingly strong. “Don’t you get it, I have to be there with him, he needs me – “

“He’s being operated on. You barge in, you only manage to distract the surgeons,” Deaton informs him, and Derek doesn’t understand how he can be so calm when Derek’s whole world is falling apart.

“I don’t care, I just – fuck.” Derek closes his eyes, “Please. I have to see him. If it’s the last… the last time…” he doesn’t finish the sentence; he simply can’t.

Deaton pushes him down to a chair. Derek expects the guy to leave, but he lays a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait. Just like the rest of us.”

Derek doesn’t grant that with an answer. He concentrates on counting every single second. Deaton does leave soon enough, and the rest of the Avengers come sit with him. Nobody feels like talking; they can all feel Stiles’ absence in their bones.

 

The doctor tells him that Stiles is still being held under anesthesia. They had to perform very difficult and risky surgery on him, but apparently everything went well, at least as well as possible, considering the circumstances. Derek thanks the medical team and waits, waits, waits.

Finally they let him in Stiles’ room, and it doesn’t take but five minutes before Scott joins him.

Derek accepts the coffee Scott’s brought him with great gratitude and tells him about Stiles’ condition.

“I love him,” Derek says.

“I know you do,” Scott smiles. “And so does he, I think. He’s probably just been waiting on you.”

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. He stares at the peaceful inhale-exhale of Stiles’ chest, the arc reactor glowing eerily underneath the hospital gown. They told him Stiles got lucky, that the reactor should’ve blown up for the force Mandarin pressurized on it.

Derek doesn’t believe in luck. He believes in Stiles.

 

It’s been 27 hours when Stiles finally wakes up. Derek’s right there beside him, and they make disgustingly sappy eyes at each other, just basking in the knowledge they’re both alive and mostly okay. Derek sleeps the next five nights curled up in a chair next to Stiles’ bed, absolutely refusing to budge for any other reason than bathroom breaks. Stiles calls him crazy. Derek says he doesn’t know why he should pretend Stiles isn’t the most precious thing in his life. It makes Stiles blush and now Derek can finally understand why he liked teasing Derek so much, back when they were but mere strangers to each other.

 

After spending days at the hospital under surveillance, Stiles is permitted to return home. Lydia organizes a welcome back party, and they eat shawarma and watch dumb horror films from a big screen on the roof.

Stiles sticks to sharing Derek’s apple juice for the whole evening. He snuggles closer to Derek, says, “Hold me,” and won’t meet his eyes. Derek knows what that means, now. His heart feels way too big for his chest.

They haven’t talked about Stiles blurting out the l-word and Derek doubts they will do it any time soon, but it’s okay. Derek knows it’s going to take a while before they both feel comfortable enough about saying it out loud, without being at the risk of death, but he’ll wait for as long as he has to.

It’s not too long ago he felt like an intruder in this time he wasn’t born into, like he shouldn’t be here but remain frozen and forgotten in ice. Now he knows more of things he can’t change. There’s still days when he’s unsure whether he truly belongs, but then he looks at Stiles and knows it’ll pass. He’s got something to hold on to, now. It’s enough and a little more.


End file.
